Lost and Found
by beautifulugly
Summary: Lucky had no fear of being found, that was impossible. Her biggest fear? Finding something. But when she meets a handsome man named Wally on her birthday, she decides that there may not be any harm in getting lost. AU. A multi-shot between our Jinx (Lucky) and Kid Flash (Wally West). Enjoy and Review. Rated T for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: An AU fluffy story about Wally West and Lucky (Jinx) getting lost and found in the countryside of eastern Nebraska 3 **

**Enjoy! xoxo**

**Lost and Found**

_It's better than nothing._

The thought continued to throw itself against the walls of her brain, even as she meandered through the crowd and pulled up a seat at the bar. The place was loud and warm, thumping and pulsing with bodies and loud music. Music with edge, guitars that twanged, voices that drawled and lulled and growled. Heavy drums and bass lines that you felt in the pit of your stomach. The scents hinted at wood smoke and fatty meals, real food that joined the bass beats down in your belly to give you that _taken-care-of_ feeling. Smiles everywhere you looked, laughing faces, flirtatious smiles, smoldering eyes of people that turned existence into an art. They didn't just reside, they _lived_. They _breathed. _They _saw _things and _felt _things that Lucky had never experienced before. And as she looked around from her seat, the tall stool adding to the feeling of smallness washing over, she began to have the sneaking suspicion that had she been given those _things _that were meant to be felt, she would not have a clue how to go about _feeling _them, and sure, she would be _seeing_, but what was _seeing _without the proper emotion behind it?

_So, this is Nebraska._

_Better than nothing._

For the millionth time on her journey, she realized that this was the furthest she'd been from her house in San Francisco. Before Omaha, it'd been Lincoln, Nebraska. Before there, it'd been somewhere in Wyoming, just after Yellowstone. Before that, she had realized it once near the adjoining border to Idaho, then another time in Boise. Before Boise, it had been every mile after Carson City in Nevada.

She thought back to the first with a mixture of sickness and pride. The sign had been big and bright, cheery even. _WELCOME TO NEVADA! _

That's right, twenty-one years on this miserable planet, and she'd never been out of California. And leave it to Lucky to be one of the unlucky ones - ironic, given her name - to be able to say Cali was not what it was cracked up to be. A pretty jewel that did little to satisfy anyone looking for more than a bauble to put on a shelf and admire and yearn to be compared to. Indeed, Lucky was _very _unlucky.

"Darlin', are you ordering or just takin' up a seat?"

So caught up in the constant contemplation that was her self-pity, a brand all her own, Lucky nearly jumped from her skin at the voice. Said voice belonged to the bartender, a woman maybe five years older than herself, in a white shirt and slacks.

"Oh! Sorry." she said, her voice hoarse. Another shock dawned on her, when she realized this could possibly be the first thing she'd said above a mumble in two months. And of course, this caught her in the age-old predicament of being so eager to speak that the words necessary to do so were lost to her.

The woman smiled sympathetically, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges as they flickered down the girl's sparse frame, drowning in a black hoodie. She leaned over and asked, "Does a burger sound good?"

Lucky could only nod.

"A beer?"

Another mute nod, followed by the rifling through the millions of pockets in her cargo pants for her I.D. Hesitant, she handed the plastic card to the woman, who eyed it, and smiled.

"Well Lucky, happy birthday." And just as quickly as she'd come, the bartender was gone, without any comment about her strange name. _That's new, _she thought bitterly, remembering the multiple times she'd tried to start conversation with her fellow bus-riders and gotten weird looks for her name. But not only was it her legal name, it was a curse. Naming your child Lucky was simply tempting fate, begging the universe to make her life as miserable as possible. And the universe had been very successful.

Sighing as she looked as the forty-plus people in this bar, she figured she might as well get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as she could get in a bar of denim-clad farmer-types and beautiful bumpkins hanging off their arms. The music was beginning to grow on her though, as it began to wind down from the blood thumping beat to a softer, lonelier sound, rather fitting to her mood. The weather outside for the past ten miles had been hell, as she'd missed the last bus of the night. Neither cold nor particularly warm, the skies had simply opened up above her and soaked her straight through. While this was nowhere near the ideal place to find refuge, it was enough, and she found the tension in her shoulders slowly seeping out as her clothes dried.

_Better than nothing._

As she unzipped and removed her hoodie, leaving her in a only slightly less damp tank top, she found her eyes roaming the dance floor, which was more or less a crowd of bodies laughing and talking as they swayed to the beat. Some even sang along, the sound of jovial and slightly drunken voices lightening her mood. It almost made her forget why she started this journey in the first place.

Almost.

After all, a young girl doesn't simply up and run from her seemingly perfect life in California with an absurd amount of money saved in a secret account to hitchhike, risk rape and starvation, and ditch various rental cars on the side of every highway from San Francisco to Nebraska for no reason.

Allowing her hazel eyes to brush along the bar, she found herself looking into those of a young man. In a happy group of his own, across the ocean of swaying customers, he stood with his back to the window, a beer in hand and a faint smile on his face. He stood out in a yellow tee shirt, a plaid button-down thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Something about the color drew the attention to his just-this-side-of-auburn hair, then to an impossibly blue pair of eyes. They were unbelievable, so distinct in his grinning face that she could see their color from across the dim light of the pub.

A stirring began to tickle her stomach, almost overpowering the ache for food. Her breath quickened, her face heated, and her palms started to sweat. It was clear, his effect on her, and the widening of his smile indicated he was fully aware. Yet he didn't get up, or make any other advancement toward her. He just leaned back into the wall behind him, and continued to watch her, and allow himself to be watched. His group hardly noticed, and she suspected him of being the outcast, the person only there for an occasional entertainment value, which was unbelievable for someone so attractive.

A quick pang of worry shot through her, and she had to fight the urge to look about her. Was he really even looking at her, or someone behind her? Surely it couldn't be. Not little Lucky, with her wrinkled cargo pants and dirty sneakers, with her damp clothes, her stringy brown and faded pink hair plastered across her forehead and shoulders. Yet, she was positive there was no one around her close enough for him to be looking at. No, the bar tender was at the opposite end, and all seats on either side of her were empty. She was entirely alone, being openly watched by the stranger in yellow with the impossible eyes.

"Order up, birthday girl!"

It was the bar tender's voice, again shocking poor Lucky to her core. Ripping herself away from the strange man's gaze, Lucky whipped around to find a plate piled high with French fries, and a thick burger with the works. The steam reached her face, and she had to restrain herself from practically diving in.

"Eat up, sweetie. You look like you could use it." The woman smiled again, an expression Lucky found looked rather natural on her face. She'd never been one for smiling.

"I'm Helen, by the way. The meal's on the house, and so is your first beer. From there on, I can't help you."

Lucky immediately shook her head, the weight of the debit card in her pocket suddenly very apparent. "No, I couldn't possibly accept… I mean I have plenty of money -"

"Things to worry about on your birthday." Helen finished with a cocked eye brow. She clearly wasn't taking no for an answer. "So accept the gift and eat up."

And that was that, for the woman, Helen, was off in a flash, called down the bar by a group of women she looked familiar with.

Staring down at the free food, Lucky closed her eyes momentarily. _Oh, what the hell._

_It's better than nothing._

She began to dig in; beginning with the biggest bite of burger she could manage without unhinging her jaw. Her last real food stop had been two days ago, from which she'd finished the leftovers of that morning. Her stomach had shrunk to the size of an infant's, and she had to desperately remind herself to both breathe between bites and leave some for the next day. If she could make it over into Iowa by the end of the week, she'd treat herself with a hotel stay. But only for a night, as she did not dare stay in one place for longer than necessary. Not for the fear of being found, that was impossible. She'd left no way to trace her, only a note that she would be back within the year, and a sketch of herself. Getting found was not a worry. It was finding something she was worried about.

Before she knew it, she'd downed almost all of the fries, and half of the burger. For the first time since she'd begun eating, she eyed her beer. She hadn't given it an ounce of thought.

It was her birthday.

It was her twenty-first birthday. And she was spending it alone.

_Freaking wonderful._

Was alcohol really a wise decision? She had places to be in the morning. Even tonight she'd be forced to find a place off-road to set up a camp, somehow get out of this rain. Her little backpack only held so much; a tarp, some fraying rope, an abandoned sketch book, and a few other odds and ends. In the past two months she'd only gone shopping twice, always keeping with a color scheme of unnoticeable and unmemorable, and keeping on the path of comfort and function.

The nights were bearable and the days were manageable. She meant to head south after Iowa, maybe past the Mason-Dixon Line. She'd be in need of less and less clothes and more room to carry water as she went.

Which brought her thoughts back to the present. To drink or not to drink?

Steeling herself, she reached her hand toward the cold bottle, only to be stopped at the sight of Helen approaching her once again. "You want a water, darlin'?" she asked, placing down two Styrofoam boxes.

"Uh, yes, thank you. B-but I don't need the two boxes, I only have this left." Lucky briefly smiled her thanks to the woman, if you could call it a smile, as she picked up the second container to hand it back. It was already full.

Now she was starting to get frustrated. "Helen, really, I don't need the free food! I have plenty of money and I can pay -"

Helen only chuckled, catching Lucky off guard. "Honey," she started, taking the foam box from her and placing it on the counter. She leaned forward on her elbows, coming in close to Lucky as she looked over her shoulder at something across the pub. "You see that boy over there? The one pretending not to look at us?" she pointed subtly, urging her to peek behind her.

She gulped. "The one in the yellow?"

Helen smiled, nodding. "Yup. See, he wanted to buy you a drink, but I told him a meal would be a bit more useful in your situation."

_Your situation. _Lucky almost snorted. They all thought she was some pretty little hood rat, like she had no power over her _situation._ They had no idea that she could go to the nearest pay phone, and have her uncle's private jet here within the hour.

"What's his name?" she asked, chewing her lip.

Helen shrugged, straightening up. "Dunno, sweetie. But by the look of that smile, he's not taking no for an answer."

The man looked at her full on, a half-smile stretching his perfect lips.

Lucky squeaked.

Whipping her head back around to face Helen, Lucky immediately ducked her head, as if that would hide her. She suddenly wished she hadn't taken off her hoodie, feeling his cobalt gaze searing into a bare flesh of her upper back. "Is it that obvious? Do I look that much like a charity case?" she hissed half-heartedly. She already knew the answer. And she didn't like it.

Another chuckle from the older woman. "Sweetheart, that young man buying you a drink had nothin' to do with charity. And if you're plannin' on turning him down, at least do it gentle enough to warrant keeping the food."

Again with the whisking off, at the one time Lucky desperately needed to look busy. _I've gotta leave now… But I need to change clothes. _

She wasn't looking to be found, and she certainly wasn't looking to find. She'd over stayed her welcome, here in Omaha.

Leaving a couple bucks under the untouched beer, Lucky tossed the food containers into her backpack, hiked it onto her shoulder, and made a beeline for the restroom, feeling a certain pair of blue eyes following her the entire way.

"_Damndamndamn." _She muttered the mantra as she hurled herself into a stall and began the tedious task of changing. She was on her last resort clothes, tight jeans, another blue tank top, this one with a jewel detail around the too-low neck line, (she'd bought it on a whim and regretted it immensely), and her men's army jacket. Transferring her wallet, map, and the little loose cash she had into the pockets in the jacket, she pulled on new socks, her sneakers, and left the stall.

_Damn._

A gasp escaped her lips, eyes wide as she beheld the person staring back at her from a mirror. Brown hair streaked with sun, slightly dried, hung around her face, sticking to her cheeks in spots, the ends fading to a pinkish color. They'd once been vibrant, rose and violet, but had since faded to an almost bubblegum color.

Her eyes, darkly rimmed with a need for sleep, seemed wild and hollow, almost too big for her small face, under eye brows that were fully there for the first time in years.

She'd been thin her entire life, but this was clearly on the unnatural side. Her legs held whispers of muscles, as did her arms, but her waist was shockingly small, and she knew she looked unhealthy.

Strangely enough, her once pale skin seemed to glow, and she pulled back her collar with a shock to find a tan line. She even had ghosts of freckles across her nose.

She was unsure of how to feel about her appearance. On the one hand it was obvious she needed to be more worried about sleeping and eating rather than getting onto her next city. On the other hand, there was a perverse pleasure in knowing she was nowhere near the same person she'd been two months ago. And it made her feel almost… beautiful?

She snorted. As if.

Reminding herself of the still very long road ahead, Lucky threw her backpack up onto her shoulders, trying not to mind the extra weight of the food from her blue-eyed admirer, and tried began to file this place into a part of her brain that would forget all about Omaha other than its awful weather and good food. Bursting through the door of the bathroom, she was determined to let this place, just like all the others before it, fade into another stop along her way.

That's when she got a face full of yellow tee shirt.

_That didn't last long. _

For a brief moment, she considered not looking up. But that was ludicrous.

_And still very tempting._

"Oh, excuse me." She breathed, attempting a graceful exit. Barely glancing upward to avoid being completely rude, she clutched her coat closer to her body and skirted around him.

"Hey, hold on." His voice came from behind her, soft and full of laughter. There was soft tilt to the voice, something that pulled her almost as powerfully as his eyes. _Keep walking._

A hand wrapped around her arm, gentle. She found herself letting the hand – the man – turn her.

"I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm -"

"That's nice! I-I have to get g-going. Nice talking to you." Lucky said cheerily, voice shaking. She sent a rather broken looking attempt at a smile his way, and was off before she could even glimpse the inevitable look of hurt on his face.

She burst through the door, hood up and arms wrapped tightly around her, rushing desperately back into the storm she'd been so eager to get out of an hour ago.

Lucky swore.

The storm, the torrential monster of wind and rain that had attacked her for the past ten miles, had completely vanished. Gone was the whipping wind, in its place a balmy breeze that caressed her skin and awakened her lungs. Gone were the suffocating clouds. Instead she found an impossibly wide sky, wrapping the entire horizon in black velvet, powdered with sugar and diamonds. Shooting stars winked at her, and she found a great desire to wink back. And she was found. Somewhere inside of her felt uncovered, naked, raw. New to the world. New to this sort of _living. _

But why? Why this sky? Why Nebraska? How could a sky, how could a single place, this little dirt parking lot in the middle of Omaha, Nebraska, in the middle of the country, make her want to find something? She'd been under night skies one could only dream of for weeks now, had seen nature at its best and worst. None of which had left her as short of breath as this. No, Nebraska was different. This place _breathed. _It made the very act of existence an _art, _much like the people in it. Nebraska _felt. _Nebraska was alive.

She heard footsteps behind her, scraping against the dirt in the parking lot. And she let them come. She just stood where she was, blinking at the stars, breathing in the air. Taking in the sounds of nature. Taking in for the first time what had been right in front of her for so long.

"You okay?"

It was her yellow-wearing admirer, buttoning his flannel shirt and standing just out of the corner of her eye. He was close to her, close enough that had she taken another step back her shoulder would become nestled against his chest. He smelled of smoke, of something homier than she anything she could dare to hope for.

_If I'm not looking to be found… But what's the harm in getting lost?_

Lucky turned him, allowing herself to look him straight in his very handsome face. He was clearly surprised, but his blue eyes danced with a restrained amusement. He mimicked her current pose, crossing his arms, a little bit of cockiness mingling with the happiness in his eyes.

"You got a name, cowboy?" she was out of breath, smiling, on the verge of laughter. _Laughter. All because of a damned sky. _The man smiled back at her, looking a little confused. _Okay, maybe it wasn't just the sky._

"Wally. Wally West."

"You got a truck, Wally?"

He pointed, "Parked right over there."

She looked back up at the sky, chewing her lip again. The wind tickled her face, as if urging her on. She reached out and laced her fingers into Wally's, pulling him toward the truck. His laughter mingled with hers, and all she could think to say was:

"Then let's get lost."

**The first installment of I don't know how many! Please please please review, it would mean the world to me! Thanks to all of those that reviewed my first Flinx story, please continue to do so. I adore this story, spent the entire day working on this before i leave for Vermont! Hope you guys like it, i apologize for anything out of character, but after all, it is AU. As the story continues you'll see more details from the Teen Titans tying in. **

**SO MUCH LOOOOOVE 333 **

**xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Well... this is awkward..._**

**_It's been a month... OVER a month, actually... But I'm sure you know that. And I'm sure you know that I am eternally sorry, as well as grateful for the fact I haven't gotten any flaming messages telling me how much I suck for not updating sooner. I have received amazing reviews and I cannot say thank you enough for them! And i hope my awful timing hasn't turned any of you off from this story! _**

**_I promise that this story is worth following! I love writing it, and now that I've recovered from this writing slump and have a much more predictable schedule, I promise the updates will come much quicker!_**

**_Don't give up on me yet!_**

**_Oh yeah... And I don't own anything... If I did, there would be way more Flinx in the Teen Titans series..._**

**_LOVE YOU ALL 3_**

**_ENJOY!_**

**_XOXOXO_**

_What the hell am I doing?_

Lucky drummed her fingers against the dash board, backpack hugged to her chest with one arm. The window of the little Chevy was cracked, and the same wind that had rushed into her and dazed her just twenty minutes ago was whipping across her face, dousing her in reality, which had never been her friend. Reality was always cold, always black and white. Reality was flat as the damp asphalt stretching ahead of her; sharp around the edges and immobile. And it continued to block her way, unable to be climbed, pushed, broken, or penetrated.

And this reality was much more complicated than she was used to. What was she thinking? Getting into this stranger's truck, talking about getting lost? She had to get to Iowa! She had to find camp and sleep. She could not be gallivanting across the countryside with some handsome stranger, _getting lost. _

While the thought was incredibly tempting…

For the millionth time, she glanced over at Wally, Wally West, and for the millionth time found herself in awe. He was just too handsome, too pretty for someone she stumbled across in freaking Nebraska. He was tall and lean, his muscles bulging in every right way possible. His shoulders were broad; his waist was thin, legs were long. His profile was strong yet soft, something beautiful in his lips and the bridge in his nose. He was clean shaven, and his auburn hair was neat, albeit a little windblown. And don't even start on his eyes…

What a million glances could tell her was incredible, and she tried hard to keep her eyes from lingering longer than necessary. Pretty or not, she had no idea who she was, or where he was leading her.

Maybe she could just ask him to drop her somewhere safe, near a bus stop? _No, that would raise too many questions…_ A hotel? She couldn't afford to do that just yet. She was on a schedule, and the time wasted checking in and showering and sleeping would be a dangerous sacrifice. Omaha was too mainstream; all the hotels around here would be big name companies with easily searchable data bases. Again, being found was not her biggest fear, but it couldn't hurt to be cautious. No, the hotels she needed were family-owned bed and breakfasts, or sketchy travel inns that hardly needed any information from you at all. And she doubted he'd ever drop her off at one of those.

But how could she know that? How could she say what he would and wouldn't do? She knew nothing about him. He was simply a man that had bought her food in some attempt to woo her, some man that had taken an interest in a girl that strived to be as uninteresting as possible. And did he even have a right to be taking an interest? She could be in a married man's truck right now. How old was he? Had he ever been arrested? What if he'd taken her expression of "getting lost" the entirely wrong way and he was bringing her back to his apartment for something she was unwilling to give?

_Oh, Jesus…_

These questions continued to assault her, continued to accost her brain and make her lungs constrict. She pictured a scene from _The Birds_, a short story that had been turned into a Hitchcock movie in the 60's. She imagined each question, each thought, as a heavy black crow, eyes thirsty for pain and blood, swarming about. Her brain, the unsuspecting house, with open windows and flimsy wooden shutters, being filled to the brim with these birds, these dirty, blood-lustful birds, until the windows were blocked with ebony feathers and the walls busted open where the boards met…

"You look like you're about to jump out the window."

It was Wally's voice, obviously, pulling her from her violent thoughts. She looked up at him, but found his profile again, as his eyes flickered between her and the road.

"What?" Lucky's voice was hoarse, and she bit her lips hard as if that would take back the pathetic sound. She could hardly see him in the darkness surrounding them, and she was beginning to feel painfully vulnerable.

His posture remained relaxed, and he stretched one arm out across the back of the bench seat of the truck. His hand barely reached her head, since she'd silently refused to sit in the middle, where there thighs would touch and she'd be easily perceptible to any advances or-

"I said you look like you wanna jump out the window. You okay?" he was turning off the main road, onto a narrower dirt path that was flanked by breath-taking pastures on each side. The light was dimming with each passing mile, and Lucky found herself getting further and further away from town.

"Stop the car." The words were shaky, full of something that wasn't quite fear. More like anxiety. Whatever it was, it was the furthest thing from confidence. And confidence would have been much appreciated if this stranger gave her any trouble.

"Wait, why am I -"

"Just, pull over, Wally!" screamed Lucky, her voice cracking in panic.

He whipped the wheel to the side, jerkily hitting the breaks. She didn't even wait for the dust to settle before throwing the truck door open, nearly falling out, and stomping away down the road.

"Whoa! Hey!"

She heard his voice, but kept walking. Heard the engine cut, but kept walking. She made a grab at her pocket for her pocket knife, and swore when she remembered it was in the cargo pants balled up in her bag. Right next to her food… The food she hadn't purchased with her own money…

"Wait a second! I just wanna talk!" He sounded way closer than he had a second ago, which made her almost burst into a sprint, but he would catch her. She had no doubt of that.

"I don't have time to talk, Wally." Lucky answered him, but continued to walk on. It was hopeless though… She was at least two miles from where they'd turned off, and the nearest house was speck on the horizon. She found herself entirely alone on this road, with this stranger and his torturously blue eyes burning holes into her back.

"You're the one that wanted to _get lost_." Lucky could hear his steps timed to hers perfectly, and she can almost feel his closing distance. He was hardly a few strides behind her, within striking distance. Or grabbing distance. It would take barely a second for him to reach out and grab her. It would be an easy thing, to take her and overpower her.

But he didn't.

And she suddenly realized he wouldn't.

He was still demanding answers from her. "Why did you get me out here if you don't have the time to talk? Why did you get in my car?"

She stopped walking.

"Why me?" she asked the question nearly in his face as he stumbled to a halt in front of her. His boots skid on the dirt, drawing her attention down his body, then straight back up to her face before any wandering could be done on her mind's behalf.

His brows knit together. "Why you?"

"Why did you pick me? Why did you try to buy me a drink at the bar, then pay for my meal? Why did you follow me out into the parking lot?" It was a lot of questions, with no clear answers she could find.

Wally's mouth opened, but he shut it quickly. His frustration had simmered from something external to an internal battle, and internal game of decision-making. Finally, he settled on an answering her with a question. "Why does any guy buy a pretty girl a drink?"

Her eyebrow shot straight up, surprised.

She could have slapped herself.

She'd spent her entire life in a glass box, allowed to watch people's interactions, but never allowed to participate. Everything she observed was through a haze of self-doubt, as well as the constant feeling of being watched. And it hadn't just been a feeling. She couldn't remember a single moment in her 21 years that she had been alone. Had she _felt _alone? Yes. Had she been _lonely_? Every day. But not once had she been alone. It was always a brother, a caretaker, _someone_ breathing down her neck and waiting for her to act up so they could go crying to Aunt Rouge. And this of course left any sort of romantic activity to rot in the confines of her mind, to the point of romance losing its meaning and only being a series of letters, a sound that brought up thousands of negative connotations.

So when this boy came along, heart on his sleeve and extending an offer of kindness, she had seen none of the romance in it. Only bad memories of foreboding and desperation.

"I don't know… I'm not really the sort of girl that guys buy drinks for." God, she was stupid! Lucky wished to take the statement back, pluck it from the air, but he was already answering.

"Well…" She heard Wally's voice rise with a bit of that laughter he'd had before, as he scratched the back of his neck. Had it not been so ridiculously pitch black, she would have seen clear as day the pink blooms of color under his cheeks. Instead they were just a sneaking suspicion, accompanied by his nervous voice. "Maybe you were looking for drinks from the wrong guys."

The statement was almost so blunt that she thought she hadn't heard right. It hit her straight in the face, like a strange insect. And when she identified said insect, she immediately wished to squish it.

So she turned around, and walked. Walked away from Wally, his compliments, his laughter.

"I feel like I've seen you before! Or was that just in my dreams?"

_What?_

_Shut up! Just keep walking._

She heard the footsteps again.

"I've seem to have lost my number. Can I have yours?" he called after her, picking up speed.

"Have you lost your mind?" Lucky called back, still not stopping.

"Are you lost? Heaven is a long way from here!"

She bit back a smile. "You've freaking lost it." She was walking backwards now, staring right into his face as he continued to speak.

"Did you sit in sugar? Cause your ass is pretty sweet."

If looks could kill.

He smirked. "Sorry."

They were standing still again, Lucky with her arms crossed, eying the cocky gentleman staring back at her. After a moment, she asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

He gave her a chagrined look, biting his lips and turning his head to the dirt. "Doing this right. Usually you try and charm the girl before you buy her dinner."

She nodded, pretending she had a clue of what he was talking about. She almost wanted to laugh, wanted to get in on this joke he was playing on her. And she absolutely would have – for it had been a very long time since she'd had a good laugh – if he hadn't looked so damned serious. Instead of laughing, she went for a snort, and said, "True. But I would hardly call those cheap lines _charming._"

"What if I told you you were so beautiful I forgot my pickup line?"

He smiled.

His eyes glittered.

She stared.

She giggled.

_Loudly._

His face immediately dropped, his blue eyes clouding over with a pretty frustration that quirked his lips and crinkled his brow. Lucky couldn't help it, even as she pressed her small hand against her lips. His bright eyes and smile made all of his expressions seem over the top, like a caricature's.

_If caricatures were perfectly proportioned and laughed like a freaking angel…_

_Okay, Lucky. Calm down._

"And what is so funny, may I ask?" Wally demanded, clearly annoyed that his attempts at wooing her hadn't had the littlest bit of effect. _That he knows of._

Lucky rolled her eyes. "You don't really think those stupid lines would really _work _on a woman, do you?"

Yet, unbelievably, his expression only got worse, his mouth turning downward in anger. She was confused for a moment, getting that feeling that the hole was only getting deeper.

Then it dawned on Lucky, and she almost burst out laughing again.

"They've actually worked before?" she exclaimed, and he once again hid his blushing. However, he didn't falter, and even had the audacity to step closer to her.

"I think the question that really needs to be answered is," he said in a smooth voice, one that slid down her spine and spread like warm water, "Are they working _now_?"

Lucky felt her cheeks heat, her eyes widen, and just like that; she was wordless. And then, like a beautiful sunrise after a night of storm, came that shining sense of sarcasm over the horizon.

"You wish, Mr. Flannel."

Her tone was far from impressed, and came out in a purr that oozed superiority. It was a tone she'd spent years perfecting when there was no one breathing down her neck, and she took great pride in.

Still, it was clear no bout of sarcasm could deter this rakish man in front of her. "Listen," he sighed, trying to shake off her comment. "I'm not looking for anything. I ain't forcing you to do anything. But you look like a girl that needs a good time and some serious relaxation, and I can provide both, at no charge. So, little lady, what's it gonna be?"

This guy had the patience of a saint.

Nothing she couldn't handle.

Her next comment, sharp on her tongue like a bit of bone in her meal, poised on the edge of her lips, was cut short when she felt it. A splash. Small. A drip, a drop, right on the bridge of her nose. Then, her arm. And a few on her forehead.

_CrAaAcK!_

Lucky's eyes raised to the sky just in time to see the white stripe of lightning split the once-clear sky in half, followed by the rumbling bass of a thunder that pulled at her gut as if it were attempting to turn in to jelly.

"What the hell!" Lucky gasped, and the sky opened up above the both of them.

"Come on!"

She was hardly aware of Wally's fingers wrapping around hers, only the sensation of mud slipping beneath her soles and the pounding of water against her skin. They'd made it a lot further from the truck than either of them had expected. By the time they were both at the passenger's side door, they were nearly soaked through.

Yet Lucky still found her fight.

Wally hopped up, clearly not caring that he was tracking mud across his carpet and soaking his upholstery. He held out a hand, scooting back toward the driver's side to give her space. "Hop in!"

"No! I can't!" she yelled over a particularly loud crash of thunder. She knew it was stupid. She knew she had to get in the car eventually, if not for her sake but her poor backpack's. But she just couldn't.

"Come on! I'm not going to hurt you!" he waved her closer with his hand, squinting as rain blew sideways and spattered his already wet face.

"Are you married?"

It was a dumb question to ask, but it was at the top of her list.

Wally's face spread into an incredulous grin, and he shook his head, "No, I'm not."

Lucky got a little closer to the car.

"Girlfriend?"

"Lots." He said with a wink.

"I don't want to be one."

"Who said you had to be?" He grinned at her, "Your loss, though."

She rolled her eyes.

She got in the truck.

* * *

"You did this on purpose."

There they sat, in the pitch dark, the storm raging around the truck. Both soaked to the skin, just staring at the other. Wally looked all too amused, while Lucky looked ready to jump off a cliff.

Wally's grin flashed pearly white through the darkness. "Sorry to say this never crossed my mind. I guess you could call it destiny." He shrugged happily.

She shook her head and scowled, reaching up to turn on the overhead light. She hit the button a few times, and nothing happened.

"That light's been broken since I bought the car back in '04." Wally said flatly.

"Awesome."

They were silent for a while, as Wally bent over the back of the front bench to lift the jump seats and move clutter around.

Lucky rested her head against the back of the bench. It was a large truck, and she was short enough that she could rest her head without even needing the headrest, a fact she tried to see beauty in. _Looking like you're twelve had its advantages._

"This is disgusting." Lucky muttered as they sat in the truck. Ten minutes had gone by and they hadn't moved. She peeled her tank top away from her body and released it, letting it slap her skin with a wet sound. Her toes were numb, and her jeans felt like they were painted on.

"Oh, it's not that bad. It could be mud." Wally countered optimistically, tossing his dripping boots into the small space behind the bench seat of the truck. Her army jacket followed, followed by her wet sneaker and socks.

"If this is going to turn into a strip tease, we're gonna need more space." He commented, earning him a solid punch to the arm. "Hey!"

She just sneered at him, pulling her backpack up into her lap. She slowly unzipped it, pulling out a trash bag of clothes.

"Did your stuff get ruined?"

She poked her head into the bag, and came up with pleasant news. "Nope. Everything's dry. Some things just need to be washed."

"Smart idea… How long you been doing this?"

_What happened to small talk?_

"You don't need to know that." She said flatly as she pulled her other belongings out. She hoped she was discreet enough in placing her pocket knife into her back pocket, but that's all she could really do.

"Could I at least know your name?" he asked, bowing his head into her line of vision and sending her an encouraging smile. "Any name. It doesn't even have to be real."

She chewed her lip, hugging her arms around herself. She felt oddly exposed in just the tank top. "You told me your real name."

He arched an eyebrow, giving her a rather devious look. "Or did I?"

She snorted, knowing that if anyone could make up an alias they'd never choose a name like Wally. Still, the idea was tempting. But what name could she tell him?

"If I told you my real name, you wouldn't believe me." She said, knowing most people didn't.

"Then don't."

She thought… And thought a little more. The opposite of Lucky…

"Call me Jinx, then." She replied, and they shared a satisfied grin. She thought it was fitting to her life. As she'd said before, she had never been lucky in her life. But she sure felt jinxed.

The last things she pulled out of her bag were the food containers, which brought both of them into silence.

"Thank you, by the way… No one has bought me a meal in a long time."

Their eyes met for a moment, blue to brown, and while Wally clearly wanted to ask more questions, all he replied with was a soft, "Any time."

She smiled.

Wally turned in his seat, gripping the wheel with sudden enthusiasm. "So, Jinxy! You still trying to get lost?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I said _Jinx _not Jinxy." She turned and buckled herself in, then threw everything messily back into her bag. "And… Maybe. What is it that you people here in Omaha do for fun, anyway? Besides picking up hitch hikers and arguing in the rain?"

Wally's eyes lit up, and he threw the engine into a roar. "I don't think you can handle it."

"I'm from California, West. Don't think I can't handle a couple hicks."

He only shrugged, and put the car in drive.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Lucky found quickly found herself getting used to gripping the handle above her head for dear life.

**See what i did there ;) haha, love you guys! READ AND REVIEW! xoxo**

**~beautifulugly**


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